A Heartbeat Away: Quilts of Love Series Read Online Free

need to savor the gift more than the need to play. There were a lot of things she understood so much better now than she did then.
    Excitement battled against the spring of unexpected tears as she peeled back the brown paper, smoothed it, and only then allowed herself to peek at what lay inside.

    The slaves? Those ebony faces, fear visible in the glint of their dark eyes. Joe remembered the woman’s frantic words as the group had shrunk against the back wall of the cellar. The big man holding the old, frail one, the one whose delusional shout had revealed their hiding place
.
    Ben’s frown
.
    And then there was a forest, the blacks sliding away into darkness. Ben’s frown again
.
    The glint of a rifle. The bark and then strike of the charge into his flesh. Joe had grabbed at his shoulder. Ben’s face, his expression twisted into horror, staring at him, then his scream and a stream of words Joe did not hear. He was falling. Ben left. He was alone. His fingers slick with warmth. He held his hand up and saw the darkness spread on his palm. His fingers white against the night sky, except for the blood
.
    Ben?
    Joe woke with a start and pain greeted him. He arched his back against its clutch and felt a soothing warm hand on his brow, then coldness. He withdrew, not understanding what it meant. Not caring. But the dream pulled at him. Gnawing like the rats that had plagued their campsites, drawn by the slops. The hand. His brother . . . ?
    “Ben?”
    Silence greeted the question. He forced his eyes open. Darkness surrounded him. He didn’t want to be alone.Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew there should be others with him. Where were they? Was he dead?
    A shuffle and a rustle yanked his attention. He stiffened, winced, and tried to see. When a light flared, a woman’s face hovered in the circle of the bright glow for a few seconds before the wick was raised and the chimney lowered. Light spilled over him, over her, and he saw the smooth line of her jaw, the hazel eyes, more green than brown. Beautiful eyes and dark hair that caught the light and reflected the length of the glossy strands.
    She smiled and he felt warm inside. The tension building in his mind eased.
    “How do you feel?”
    “Sore.” It wasn’t the word he’d been thinking, but it was the word that came out. He tried to order his thoughts, but his focus turned to the feel of her warm fingers against his forehead, then his cheek. He wanted to tell her not to quit. To touch him. It was reassurance that he was not dead. Pain pulsed in a biting wave, and he gasped and bit down against the fire that ate at his right side. He turned his head away. Maybe he was dying.
    “My grandmother worked on your wound. She’s good with herbs and knows lots about them. She’ll be here as soon as she wakes.”
    He lifted his left hand, intending to clasp hers, but it felt swollen and heavy and would not obey his mind’s request. He licked his lips, rough with dryness, winced when he felt a sharp stab and tasted blood. “It’s me.” He blew out a sigh, cross with his inability to speak what he was thinking. Why wouldn’t the words in his head come out of his mouth?
    “Let me get balm. You need to drink something. Can you?”
    He wanted to sit up, to hold her hand and hear her voice. To be normal again. Back home with his brother and father,a humble man if not a rich one, enjoying life as he had until the war started and Sue was killed. He nodded at the woman’s request even though he wanted nothing. It pleased her, for it coaxed a smile that was both soft and sweet.
    “I’ll be back.”
    She stepped into the shadows beyond the circle of light and was lost to him. Someone else was lost to him. The idea twisted and turned in his mind, but he couldn’t make sense of the who or when, or even the where. He touched his leg with his left hand and felt the rough wool of trousers. He was dressed and lying down. His shoulder fanned an angry burn and he couldn’t